


Hey Brother

by orphan_account



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Batfamily Feels, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian isn't robin yet, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Families of Choice, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:02:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The masks of Gotham have a terrifying new addition, a hellion named Damian Wayne.
...Or how Damian found a family when he'd only been looking for a father thanks to Dick Grayson.





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so a few things to get out of the way before hand. This is definitely AU and isn't set in any one universe or canon, instead its an amalgamation of a lot of them with things I cherry picked from them all. Most of it is self-explanatory in the story, but feel free to let me know if you find anything confusing. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

The answering machine started with a click.

"Hey Dick it's me. There's some news out of Gotham, and I didn't want you to hear it on the news."

The dark haired man raised an eyebrow at the machine even as he took off his jacket and set down his keys on the waiting dish. What could possibly have happened for Barbara to be calling? His first thought, that someone had been hurt, rose his blood pressure before the more practical part of his brain dismissed it out of hand.

 If someone had been injured or worse Alfred would have been the one to call him.

 "Bruce has a son." Her voice stated, suspiciously blasé.

 He snorted. "No duh, he has three," He muttered to himself as he moved to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Well, technically, Bruce had two. He'd only officially adopted Jason and Tim. Sentiments aside, Dick had only ever been his 'ward'.

He had just taken a sip of water when Barbara got to the point.

"At some point Bruce had a son with Talia al Ghul. Dick, Bruce has a biological son."

Dick spit out his water lest he choke on it. He bent over, coughing into his elbow as he tried to regain some measure of composure.

But Barbara's recorded voice continued on regardless, unaware of his plight.

"His name is Damian, he's not even ten yet. He hasn't taken up the Robin mantle... But knowing Bruce it's only a matter of time." Her voice huffed in a rueful laugh.

Dick shook his head, too busy trying to make sense of what she'd said to share in the humor.

"Tim already knows. And Jason is so far off the grid even I can't find him. Maybe you can?"

With shaking hands he grabbed some paper towels, sopping up the mess as Barbara wrapped up her voicemail.

"I just wanted to update you. And Dick...if you need to talk. I'm here."

That brought a fleeting smile even as the message ended, the machine asking if he wanted to save it or delete it.

He ignored it, throwing away the paper towels and moving to his bedroom.

If there was one sure fire way to process this, that didn't involve sitting around and feeling sorry for himself, it was going on patrol.

Nightwing existed to stop criminals and help people. He wouldn't care that his family dynamics had just shifted irreparably.

Dick couldn't do anything about it right now, but Nightwing could do some good.

 

* * *

 

Of course, not even a week later Nightwing ran into a little demon child who could only be the progeny of a Wayne and an al Ghul.

Barbara had asked him to help out in Gotham. If it had been anyone else he would have refused. After all, he had been expressly avoiding Batman. Visiting Gotham was tempting fate.

It figured he'd run into little Damian instead.

Their scuffle was brutal but brief. For all his assassin training Damian was cocky, he underestimated his opponents and Dick had no problem exploiting that. Plus Damian had little flexibility and clearly was expecting his opponents to fight more conventionally.

When faced with someone like Dick, who prided himself on being unconventional, Damian had lost a step.

Several sword slashes later he had Damian trussed up and immobile. Or mostly immobile, he corrected, as he watched the little bird writhe in his bonds.

Still attempting to get loose.

Despite himself Dick felt a reluctant rush of fondness. The boy would fit right in with the rest of them. Stubborn to the point of stupidity.

He opened his com link, asking Oracle to connect him to Batman.

"Did you lose something?" He teased once the line was open. He took a perverse joy in the way Damian stilled.

 

* * *

 

Nightwing slung the little bird over his shoulder as he got them both off the bike.

It had taken a brief argument over the radio for Batman to agree to meet them at the cave.

Actually getting Damian there had been another story. The little brat had only complied to riding behind him on the bike when he threatened to stuff him in the saddle bag. And agreed to untie him.

Damian pounded his fists on his back, unerringly hitting the wounds littered there.

"Put me down Nightwing," He growled, about as fierce as a lion cub.

"You can't just run around the city alone like that, baby bird," Nightwing lectured as he walked up the underground drive way. "You'll get hurt."

"Tch." Was his only reply.

He wasn't so easily dissuaded.

"Don't 'tch' me, you've got the bruises and cuts to prove me right."

The boy fell quiet at that and ceased hitting his back.

Nightwing allowed a relieved sigh.

"Took you long enough," Batman greeted as they drew level with the computer area.

The cowled vigilante was standing in front of the screens, watching something intently.

Nightwing rolled his eyes, safe behind the lenses in his domino mask.

"I'm going to fix him up, and then you can lecture."

Batman grunted his approval as Nightwing strode past.

Once in the med center Nightwing gently deposited his load on the table.

Damian was surprisingly docile, blinking up at him as he ruffled his hair. The gesture was thoughtless, an automatic comfort he would have offered Jason or Tim had they been the ones on the med bench.

The blinking quickly shifted to glaring as his hand was batted away.

Nightwing grinned, reaching around for the first aid kit.

Sensing a wary set of eyes following him he made sure to over exaggerate and telegraph his every movement as he pulled out the supplies.

Finished, he turned back to the kid, looking him up and down as he decided where to start.

Damian shifted, his features annoyed. "I can patch myself up."

Nightwing sighed, because of course this was going to be a battle too. He was definitely descended from Batman.

"Really?" He reached over to tap the cut above Damian's eyebrow, "You going to stitch this up too?"

No matter how well trained, this kid was...just that. A kid. There was no way Nightwing was letting him do that.

And while the boy didn't argue, he didn't relent either, glaring daggers at him.

He decided to try a different tactic.

Still telegraphing his every move he reached up to his mask, his fingers dancing along the edge.

Seeing that he had Damian's undivided attention he smirked inwardly.

While Damian undoubtedly had an idea of who he was, imagining and seeing were two different things.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced yet," he said as he started to peel off the mask, "I'm Dick, and apparently we're brothers."

He offered the hand not holding the mask, watching as the boy's eyes went wide.

For a moment it looked like Damian might actually grasp his hand, but then at the last second he leaned away from him making that 'tch' sound between his teeth again.

"We are not related," he said with a sneer.

Dick carefully laid his mask out by the first aid supplies, smoothing his fingers across it. The statement didn't hurt him, how could it? He'd been hearing variations of it from the people he considered family for years.

What was one more?

His lack of reaction left Damian floundering again, falling quiet as he tried to suss out the situation.

Dick picked up a cotton ball, dousing it in rubbing alcohol, then he picked up the needle, wiping it with the cotton ball. It had come out of a pre-sterilized package but it never hurt to be careful.

Beside him Damian fidgeted. The sight triggered a memory, something from his own childhood. When he too hadn't been able to sit still to save his life.

Back before Batman had trained that out of him, to a degree. But even earlier than Batman there had been a method that worked better Something that still comforted him when he could dredge up the memory.

And on a whim he began to hum.

Damian startled, staring at him like he'd gone crazy.

Dick ignored it, continuing the tune, as he threaded the needle and then set it aside for later. It was a meaningless song, one he only had the vaguest of memories of.

He couldn't sing it, he didn't remember the words or the language it was in, but the tune was etched across his childhood.

Dousing a second cotton ball he picked up a spare bit of gauze and moved back to Damian. Who watched him warily but didn't move away or try to stop him.

Dick considered that progress as he slowly cleaned up the blood around the wound. Over all Damian was mostly just bruised, Dick had consciously tried not to hurt him, but the cut over his brow was worrying. He eyed it, his humming hitching slightly, head wounds bled too much for Dick's comfort.

As he dabbed at the blood Damian held very still, watching Dick from under his eyelashes. He'd moved from eyeing every twitch to studying his face. Dick noticed the change but didn't comment or react.

At this point the humming was subconscious as he finished wiping away the blood. He paused though as he stepped back to deliberately meet Damian's eyes.

"I have to clean it, baby bird, it's going to sting a bit."

Damian drew himself up, crossing his arms at the insinuation he couldn't handle a little pain.

Dick huffed, unable to stop his lips from twitching. He was surprised to note that for all his protests, the one thing Damian hadn't commented on was the nickname.

It had been a slip up on Dick's part. He was so used to not using real names in the field, that he'd improvised. He couldn't call Damian Robin, not yet.

Baby bird had just rolled off the tongue. It matched up too, he had nicknames for Jason and Tim as well. Little wing and little bird respectively.

Giving Damian one had been natural, and Dick couldn't help but be glad the boy hadn't fought him on it.

Yet, anyway.

Shaking off the train of thought he stopped stalling and began to clean the wound.

Damian held still, too still, clenching his hands into fists where they were resting on his knees.

Knowing an offer of comfort would be refused, Dick resumed humming.

Some of the tension left Damian's shoulders. Enough to allow him to finish cleaning the cut.

Before Damian could react he grabbed the Novocain shot that was prepped and waiting and plunged it in just below the cut. Quick enough that Damian barely had time to register it, let alone feel it.

Damian squawked, falling silent as the fast acting numbing agent set in.

"This way you won't feel the stitches," Dick said as he picked up the needle, "more for my comfort than yours."

"Tch."

"It's true, I couldn't do it if I knew it was hurting you."

Patently a lie. How many times had he patched up Bruce or even Jason, without pain medication? But Damian didn't know that.

He glared sullenly, kicking his legs, but not offering any real objection.

With precise, swift movements, Dick stitched the cut. While it was deep, it wasn't long, and only needed four stitches.

"There." He announced as he tied it off, reaching for the antibiotic cream.

Damian tried to hop down, but Dick blocked him with his body, resting his free hand on his shoulder.

"Hold up, Damian. Let me stick a bandage on it."

Before Damian could protest he spread the antibiotic cream over the cut and fixed a Band-Aid across it.

And if it was one of the Band-Aids Barbara liked? With smiley faces? Well Damian hadn't seen it before he put it on.

"Done?" The tone Damian used was a perfect replicas of Bruce's. For a moment Dick froze, transported back to when he was Robin and Batman had checked on him as he trained.

Swallowing roughly, he nodded.

"Yeah," his voice cracked, "Go see B."

With one last long, inquisitive look, Damian hopped off the table and did just that.

Dick sagged over the bench, his forearms resting in the warmth left behind. He leaned his forehead against them, his eyes slipping shut.

 

* * *

 

"Master Dick, always a pleasure to see you." Alfred spoke without turning away from the dishes he was drying.

He'd recognized the tread of Dick's bare feet, the rustle of the sweatpants the young man favored when he was at the mansion, the way he breathed heavier when he was tired.

The fact that he'd heard any of that was a sign of Dick's composure. Or lack thereof as it were.

Dick didn't answer, padding over to stand beside Alfred and lean his back against the counter.

After a moment, Alfred passed him the now dry plate.

Dick took it from him, staring at it like he'd never seen dishware before.

Alfred raised an eyebrow but only said, "In the cabinet please, you know which one."

There was a stutter in his movements before he complied, turning to put the plate in the cabinet to his left.

They went on like that for ten minutes, until all the dishes were dried to his standards and put away, until Dicks movements were without hesitation and back to his usual silent grace.

Only then did Alfred bring up the elephant in the room.

"I gather you met the young master?"

Dick snorted, "That's one way to put it."

They shared an exasperated glance.

"He reminds me a lot of Bruce. Just him as a kid." Dick said, voicing what had him so distracted. It shouldn't be bothering him as much as it was, this was Bruce's biological son. Of course, Damian would be the one to be so much like him.

Alfred hummed, "Is he? I think he's very different than Bruce was at his age."

Surprised, he'd expected Alfred to agree with him, his head jerked up.

But Alfred continued as if he hadn’t noticed the reaction, "In fact, when he was young Bruce was very kind, especially before his parents passed. A quiet child who only wanted those around him to be happy."

He aimed a pointed look at Dick, "Rather like another boy I helped raise."

Dick flushed and looked away.

"I was never quiet."

The look Alfred gave him spoke volumes. "Not the point, Master Dick."

When Dick only seemed to flounder, Alfred took pity on him.

With a firm grip on his shoulder Alfred propelled him out of the kitchen. "Go get some rest, the other two won't be far behind you."

Dick hesitated, "Is my room- is it-?"

Alfred drew himself up, offended. "Your room is prepared for you Master Dick. Just as it always is."

His tone was a firm rebuke even to his own ears but he couldn't help it. He would not have Dick doubt his place here. In this family that had grown so much since the days where it had only been him and Bruce.

"Sorry Alfie," Dick said and Alfred ignored the nickname, "I don't know what I was thinking."

This was yet another thing Bruce and Dick had in common that neither of them acknowledged. They both tended to undervalue their own place in other's eyes. Both assuming that no one needed them as much as they did.

It was a folly Alfred strove to correct whenever the opportunity arose.

"Go to bed," he softened the order with a reassuring squeeze to his elbow and a slight smile, "everything will look better in the light of day."

Dick nodded, finally, moving to the hallway. "Thanks Alfred, good night."

"Sleep well Master Dick."

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought?
> 
> Also this is going to be more like a series of related drabbles than a real story as there is no overarching plot other than some good old family bonding.


End file.
